


Right Turn

by ami_ven



Series: On the Run [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU from Season 1, Alternate Universe, Community: mcsheplets, Community: writerverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few weeks back in Pegasus, John and Rodney set down and start up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Turn

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #030 "inevitable" & LJ community "writerverse" challenge #09 (present tense)
> 
> (These will be posted here in publication order. To read them in internal chronological order, head to the [LJ master post](http://ami-ven.livejournal.com/360539.html).)

After a few weeks, they finally have to set the ‘jumper down somewhere. They remember a few dozen ‘gate addresses between them, and on the fourth try, they find a planet that doesn’t immediately look hostile. A quick scan verifies that there’s no civilizations, advanced or otherwise, and John sets them down on the other side of the trees, out of sight of the stargate.

He gets bored less than twenty minutes into Rodney’s diagnostics. Mostly because Rodney starts with the stuff under the main console, and absolutely refuses to play ‘I spy’ while he’s working.

After weeks in the ‘jumper, they both need some fresh air— no matter what Rodney says about solar radiation and airborne pathogens— so John lowers the rear hatch and begins gathering firewood. He can feel a twinge in his side after the third armload, and sighs. 

It takes him a little longer than usual to set up camp. He’s still not up to full speed, yet, not after getting stabbed like that, but he’s not about to aggravate it this far from a qualified medical practitioner.

By the time he’s got a fire laid, it’s almost time for dinner. John sighs, not looking forward to _another_ meal of MREs, when he hears a noise from the trees. It’s a bird, kind of like a turkey, but half the size and with strangely iridescent feathers. It makes a warbling sound a lot like a gobble, and wanders out of sight again. John’s already wearing his sidearm— old habits die hard— and he creeps after it, trying to be quiet. He must succeed, because the bird stops a few yards into the woods, and he drops it with two clean shots.

Grinning at the thought of a fresh-cooked dinner, John has only just gathered up his kill when he hears Rodney yell, “Sheppard!”

John sprints back to the ‘jumper to find Rodney on the hatch, holding his own gun in shaking hands and looking wildly around. “What?” John asks. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard shots!” says Rodney, sounding a little hysterical. “You were gone, Sheppard, and I heard shots, and—”

“That was me,” says John, holding up the not-turkey. “I shot dinner.”

“That was— Dinner? God, Sheppard, I thought there were Wraith! I thought you were in trouble! I thought you were _dead_! I thought—”

“Hey, hey.” John takes the gun before Rodney starts waving his arms. “I’m fine. No Wraith, I promise, just things that are kind of like turkeys.”

Rodney takes a deep breath. “Well, sure, I know that now,” he says, shakily.

Suddenly, John realizes how terrified Rodney must have been these past few weeks, with John so badly hurt and mostly unconscious, one puddle jumper against the whole of the Pegasus Galaxy. But Rodney hasn’t held it against him. He hasn’t complained at all about living in the ‘jumper, or being on the run, or helping John slowly, slowly recover.

John wants to show Rodney how much that means to him, how it’s more than he thought he’d ever deserve, how if he had to pick one person in the universe to be alone with forever, he’d pick Rodney every time. Because despite everything, it’s been good, just the two of them together. It always has been, and he wants to explain that, he wants to _show_ Rodney that— Oh. _Oh_.

He drops Rodney’s gun and the not-turkey and pulls Rodney into a fierce hug. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Rodney asks, automatically sliding his arms around John’s waist.

“That you— That I—” 

John doesn’t have the right words. He doesn’t know that he ever will, so he pulls back just far enough that he can lean in for a kiss. Rodney freezes for only a second before he kisses back, pulling John even closer. 

It should have been awkward, John thinks, crossing this line. But it’s not. It feels completely natural, like they’ve been heading for this since he woke up in the ‘jumper with Rodney at his side, since they stepped through the wormhole to Atlantis, maybe even since Antarctica. It’s always seemed right to have Rodney with him, and this is no exception.

John slides his hand up to Rodney’s jaw, deepening their kiss, until one of Rodney’s wandering hands brushes John’s injured side, and he winces.

“Sorry!” says Rodney, taking a step back. “Sorry, I just…”

John reaches for him. “You hit a sore spot, that’s all. We’ll just have to be careful, okay?”

Rodney rolls his eyes, but moves in to kiss John, gently. “Okay.”

He lets John roast the not-turkey over the fire, but makes him take the first bite. They clean up their campsite silently, like they’d done dozens of times on missions, but Rodney hesitates at the ‘jumper hatch.

John looks at their sleeping bag-and-blanket bedroll, still rumpled from when they’d gotten up They’ve been sharing it for weeks, from the moment John was lucid enough to realize that Rodney had been catching catnaps in the pilot’s seat.

“Rodney,” says John, tightening his grip on the other man’s wrist. He’s terrible at this sort of thing, but the very least he owes Rodney is to try. “I want this. I want _you_.”

“I— you do?” Rodney asks, sounding so surprised that John backs him into the bulkhead of the ‘jumper for another kiss, because he’s only just figured this out, but that doesn’t make it any less important that Rodney _gets it_.

And, of course, Rodney does. He kisses back, careful to avoid John’s ribs this time, until they both run out of air. “Bed,” says Rodney, breathlessly. “Bed, now.”

And John doesn’t even think of arguing.

THE END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This Company of Foxes ('Right Turn' Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910726) by [Yggdrasil (retrollama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrollama/pseuds/Yggdrasil)




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